The Lurking Fear
by huntergirl727
Summary: Post AHBL, Dean and Sam still fight the good fight, working through their emo about Dean's deal, but will their current hunt kill them both? Crossover with classic HP Lovecraft horror story, you do not need to know the story to understand.  PLEASE REVIEW!


**I have been hoping that the show would come out with an episode along the lines of HP Lovecraft's story **_**The Lurking Fear**_** for a long time, though since they probably wouldn't be able to secure the rights to it and may not wish to anyway, I have decided to fulfill my desire and just write the darned thing myself. Hopefully you will like it too. **

**Please read and review, my heart goes **_**pitter-pat**_** every time I get a review.**

**Thanks!!**

**This story takes place after AHBL2, so there may be ample spoilers.**

**Disclaimers: I don't own **_**Supernatural**_** or any characters associated with them, but if I did...well, I can't tell **_**you**_**. They belong to Kripke Ent (and Scrap Metal), and to Warner Bros. Also, I don't have the rights to any of HP Lovecraft's work, so I'll say right up front, this is his story; I'm only tweaking it. I may or may not use some lines directly from the story, please don't sue me for plagiarism, I don't have anything for you and your lawyers to win. And this is not for profit.**

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Dean had been reviewing an entire stack of newspapers from around the country for over two hours, trying to find something, _anything_, they could hunt. He hadn't found anything and he was starting to get very frustrated.

"Come on, you little bastards. I know you're out there somewhere." He threw down the paper he was looking at and picked up the next one from the stack. "What are you up to?" He murmured to himself, eyes shifting back and forth down the front page.

It had been a little over a month and a half since Jake and the Yellow Eyed Demon had opened the doorway to Hell, but in the time that had passed, Sam and Dean had only found a couple random misogynistic spirits to hunt. No demons, whatsoever. This was surprising because over 200 demons and other sundry beasties had escaped from that gaping maw of the underworld that day in Wyoming. Bobby and Ellen had been searching constantly, and had come up empty handed as well.

Sam, however, hadn't been helping at all, which was beginning to grate on Dean's nerves.

He couldn't really blame Sam, though. The boy was doing everything he could possibly do to find a loophole for Dean in regards to his deal with the Red Eyed Demon. The only reason Sam wasn't here right now pouring over the stack of ancient texts he had acquired was that Dean had complained about being hungry. At first, Dean had hated this new overly nurturing side his predicament had brought out in his little brother, but when he realized it was the only leverage he had to get Sam's head out of the books, he started using it to his advantage. He had never favored manipulation, but considering Sam's own declining health brought on by neglect of food and nourishment, Dean decided it was best. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to go to Hell for manipulating his little brother. He was going there anyway -- in T-minus 316 days and counting, to be specific.

And, he was bored out of his mind. They had holed up in a little town in the Panhandle of Texas for the time being, Dean surfing for a job, Sam with his nose stuck in some obscure tome. Sam had taken to complaining about the hot, unseasonably humid North Texas weather, and about the hundreds of oil field freighters that rumbled past their thin-walled motel every day, full to the brim with recently drilled oil, their weight and frequency leaving ruts in the hot pavement. Dean had said he was just grateful that the crappy, dirty, air conditioner stuck into the window of their room, as if an afterthought (20 years ago), still worked, even if it did make the tchotchke decorations hanging on the wall rattle.

Dean looked up from the paper he was reading, looking at the decorative spurs hanging next to the AC vent, which were jingling like sleigh bells right now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes slightly, only mildly annoyed. Last year, that unceasing noise would have been enough drive him crazy. He probably would have made them head on down the road to another motel in another town. But now, he had learned that the goofy little things like that are what make life interesting.

_Sam needs to learn that, _he thought. Sam had become more irritable with every day. He began seeing the trivialities of day to day life nothing more than the forces of evil trying to deter him from his mission to save his brother. Dean shuttered as he thought of what Sam was becoming, knowing that the life that he had dragged Sam back into, and the choices that had ultimately come about from that had caused Sam's transformation. He couldn't help thinking that if Sam were still at Stanford he'd have saved Jessica and had 1.5 kids and a dog in the suburbs by now.

_No way to turn back time, though. Better get your head out of the clouds, Dean._ He realized he had been staring at the opposite wall like it was an open window. He blinked a couple times and shook his head, holding the newspaper back out in front of him and poping it to make it stand up straighter.

The door lock made a mechanical sound as the lock beeped, admitting Sam into the room carrying a bucket of chicken and a brown bag full of side items.

"Hey," he said, looking at Dean, making sure his big brother was really still there, really still alive.

Dean looked up, "Hey." A look of disgust wrinkled his nose. "Dude, I thought I told you. _No more chicken._" Dean had lost his taste for it recently. He wasn't sure exactly why.

"Sorry," Sam shrugged. "It was the only thing in this ...town open on Sunday." He consciously edited his comment about the town, knowing that his negativity had started to affect Dean too.

Dean stood and walked to the small table where Sam had set the food down. He immediately started rummaging through the paper bag. He wasn't a fan of chicken anymore, but he did love that coleslaw. He grabbed the quart sized container and a plastic 'spork' and resumed his place on the far bed.

Sam followed him with his eyes, "You're gonna share that, right?"

Dean already had a scoopful in his mouth, working on the 'chipmunk effect'. He looked from Sam to the coleslaw and back again. He shook his head with an innocent look on his face. "No," he said definitively, then smiled an 'evil older brother' grin, harkening back to the fights they used to have about food when they were kids.

Sam exhaled a pout and furrowed his brow briefly, but rolled his eyes and started putting food on the sectioned paper plate in his hands, letting the fight go.

_Damn,_ Dean thought. _I almost had him._ Dean longed for the combattive brother Sam had been before he started treating Dean like an invalid. He got up after a couple more bites and walked back over to the table, setting the coleslaw down with his spork still stuck in it, brushing off his hands and grabbing the paper he had most recently been reviewing. "I think we need to go back east," he said, throwing the paper down on the bed beside Sam and pointing to a small article entitled _'Two More Missing Near Tempest Mountain'_.

Sam grabbed the paper like a starved dog after a steak. After he had scanned the article, he looked up. "Great, can we leave tonight?"

Dean grabbed his duffel from the floor at the end of his bed and threw it down to start packing it. "I'm always up for a night drive," he replied, giving a debonaire grin.

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That's all for today, hope you enjoyed, the story is just getting started. Please review, I love those! Thanks for reading.


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